


Trial by Solitude

by Galen_Wordwyrm



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adult Content, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Conversations, Character Study, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Confessions, F/F, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Late Night Conversations, Lesbian Chloé Bourgeois, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Matter of Life and Death, Post-Canon, Some Humor, Stranded, bi marinette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galen_Wordwyrm/pseuds/Galen_Wordwyrm
Summary: Long time rivals have to come to terms and learn to trust each other after a minor injury puts both of them in danger when a graduation vacation in the Aegean Sea goes very wrong.
Relationships: Chloé Bourgeois & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Chloé Bourgeois/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 94
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An exploration of trust, and how love and hate both spring from the same well.
> 
> PS: If you came here looking for a sequel to 'A Date With Destiny', I'm going to have to disappoint you. This one is going to be less referential, only a little bit tongue in cheek, and no crossovers even mentioned.

Day 1 – July 10

The two young women struggled along the dusty overgrown footpath in the mid-afternoon Mediterranean sun. Towering silvery cumulous clouds darkened the northern horizon. 

“Only you could twist an ankle trying to take a selfie on an out of the way beach on an abandoned Greek island, Chloé”, raven-haired eighteen year old Marinette DuPain-Chang complained. “This is not how I wanted to spend the afternoon!”

“How was I supposed to know that stupid old rowboat was rotten?”, the blonde whined from beneath her broad-brimmed white sunhat, her arm draped over her companion's shoulders, limping with a slow hop-step, her large woven beach tote bumping against her hip with every move.

“Gioura is an abandoned island! No one has lived here since two-thousand eleven! Of course the rowboat was going to be rotten!”

“You don’t have to yell at me, DuPain-Chang!”, Chloé barked. “And slow down!”

Marinette let out a long-suffering sigh. “If we miss the boat back to the hotel, Chloé…”

“Alright, alright!”, Chloé whined, limping slightly faster, pain clouding her pale blue eyes.

Half an hour later, the stone jetty was in sight.

“Oh no…” Chloé moaned.

“Congratulations, Bourgeois”, Marinette scowled. “We're officially stranded.”

*-*-*

Marinette inspected the tourist trail map screen-printed on a large post-mounted display at the foot of the jetty near a meager three-walled south facing shelter while Chloé perched on the edge of a cast-iron frame bench on the jetty, inspecting her swollen right ankle. “Do you think it’s broken?”

“I couldn’t be that lucky", Marinette grumbled to herself. “Then I could just shoot you.” She sighed, and spoke so Chloé could hear her. “No, probably not. You might have just sprained it. I don’t know.”

“I can’t get a mobile signal.”

“That’s because were in the middle of one of the few dead-zones in Greece”, Marinette pointed out. “Kinda one of the reasons I didn’t want to miss the boat.”

A bright flicker of lightning on the northern horizon.

“How long are we going to be stuck here?” Chloé sounded like she was starting to panic.

Marinette shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“But I have a hair appointment tomorrow!” Petulant, irritated.

“Well, you’re going to miss it.”

“How can you be so calm?!” Strident.

“I’m not! Freaking out right now won’t solve anything!”

Chloé crossed her arms, pouting. “I can’t even be mad at you.”

Gloom descended as the cloud cover moved in. The first fat drops of rain splattered on the dry ground. Marinette helped Chloé move into the shelter just as the storm broke. Rain sheeted out of the sky, dropping the temperature from almost too warm to slightly chill in minutes, thunder rumbling too close by in the wake of flashes that dazzled the two girls as they huddled together in a corner for warmth.

Chloé pulled her white beach wrap tighter, her sunflower yellow bikini nowhere close to adequate clothing, sunhat discarded on the dirt floor of the inadequate shelter. “I’m hungry.”

Marinette rummaged in her daypack. “I think I have some energy bars. Hold on. Yeah, here”, she said, handing a crinkling packet to her rival.

“Merci.”

“Got something to drink?”

Chloé nodded in the deepening shadows. “Yeah. Some water in my bag.”

They sat in the encroaching darkness, nibbling energy bars and sharing sips of water, Chloé shivering occasionally, watching the storm.

“It’s getting really dark. Like, can’t see your hand dark”, Chloé whimpered.

Marinette nodded. “No streetlights.” They could hear the rushing of the wind-whipped surf pounding the jetty.

“Are we gonna be safe here?”

“We should be. I hope.”

Chloé trembled. 

“Scared of the dark?”

“Of course not!”, Chloé shrilled, defensive. A pause. Then quietly, “I'm scared of what might be hiding in the dark. And I don’t want to drown in the dark!” She shuddered.

Marinette put an arm around Chloé. “Cool. Now we can both be scared. Thanks.”

Chloé fumbled in her bag, pulling out her mobile, the screen light showing her face a ghostly blue. “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

“Save your battery. We might need it.” The light winked out.

A sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Eventually they slipped into uncomfortable sleep.

Day 2 – July 11

Marinette blinked, waking. Cramped in the corner of the shelter, pinned by the dead weight of an exhausted Chloé. Stiff and aching in the morning chill, staring out into the rising morning mist, the day promising to become typically Aegean almost too warm.

“Chloé. Wake up.”

The attractive blonde grumbled in her sleep, arm draped over Marinette’s abdomen tightening slightly. 

“C'mon. Wake up.”

“Go ‘way. ‘M almos' warm.”

“Chloé, I need to pee. Get off me.”

An exasperated sigh. “Fine. There’s a pack of tissue in my bag.” Chloé released Marinette, who struggled to stand on protesting legs, hobbling out from under the shelter, returning a few minutes later to find her unwilling companion sitting up, arms wrapped around her knees, looking pensive. The sky was cloudy, but not overcast.

“How’s the ankle?”

“What do you care?”, Chloé snapped, frowning, then relented. “Hurts.”

Marinette knelt beside her nemesis, poking around in her daypack. “I’ve got maybe a dozen painkillers left”, she said, handing Chloé two tablets. “Try not to injure yourself again.”

Chloé swallowed the tablets with some cool water, eyeing the remaining amount dubiously. 

Marinette held up an almost full water bottle from her pack. “Let’s hope we get picked up today.”

*-*-* 

Chloé reclined on the bench, head propped up on Marinette's daypack, paperback book in hand, sunhat in place, beach wrap covering her as best as possible. Marinette sat on the stone jetty, legs dangling over the edge, tossing a handful of pebbles one by one into the sea.

“What’s it about?”

“Don’t pretend you’re interested, DuPain-Chang.” Chloé turned a page with studied deliberation.

“Humor me.”

“Neolithic archaeology of the Aegean.”

“What?!”

Chloé lowered her sunglasses to regard Marinette. “Contrary to your opinion, DuPain-Chang, I’m not an idiot. Running a hotel for the rest of my life is not my idea of fun.”

“I never said you were an idiot”, Marinette scowled, staring at the rippling wavelets.

Chloé scoffed quietly in disbelief, going back to her book.

The sea breeze ruffled Marinette’s blue-black bangs in the island silence.

“What time is it?”

Chloé glanced at her Cartier watch. “Almost noon.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. “We have any of those energy bars left?”

Marinette nodded. “One.”

Chloé sighed in annoyance. “Last week I was eating Cordon Bleu meals. Now I’m scavenging chocolate flavored sawdust.”

“I’ll have your share if that’s how you feel about it!”, Marinette snapped, rising to stand.

Chloé frowned. “I didn't say I wasn’t hungry.”

“ Then stop complaining about what there is to eat! It’s not my fault we're stuck here!”

Chloé bolted upright, petulantly heaving Marinette's daypack at her. “Screw you!”

“Not even with Adrian's dick!”, Marinette snatched the thrown bag out of mid-air.

°You leave Adrikins out of this!”, Chloé snarled, cheeks flushed.

“He’s the reason we fight all the time!” 

Chloé snatched off her sunglasses, pale blue eyes bright with anger. ”You're just pissed because he chose Kagami!”

“I…I…”, Marinette stammered, breathing hard, then her shoulders slumped. “You're right”, she admitted, sitting abruptly on the ground, Indian style, dropping the daypack.

Chloé didn’t feel like she'd won. “Gimme half of the energy bar, Marinette.”

“You never use my given name”, Marinette said, but did as requested, took a sip from her water bottle, then handed it over to Chloé. 

“Yeah, well, I've never been stranded on an island before. First time for everything, right?” A sip, and she handed the bottle back. Marinette guess-timated how much was left.

“Three days.”

“Hah?”, Chloé mumbled around a bite of energy bar.

“Three days. Then we die of thirst.”

Chloé swallowed hard. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

Marinette shifted, chin on folded arms resting on her knees, water bottle dangling from one hand. “I read it online. The Survival Rule of Three: Three seconds to make a decision, three minutes without oxygen, three hours without shelter, three days without water, three weeks without food. And you go insane after three months without company.”

Strained silence.

“I think I’m gonna throw up…”, Chloé whispered.

*-*-*

They retreated to the shade provided by the north wall of the shelter in the hottest part of the day. Marinette sat, legs out, leaning against the structure, watching the heated breeze stir the leaves in the dry brush. Chloé lay on the ground, wrap pulled around her, head pillowed on Marinette’s legs, focused on nothing in the hard blue sky.

“That was disgusting.”

“I said I’m sorry.”

Somewhere in the heated scrub and grass of the island, an insect ‘whirred’. A local raptor circled high overhead, riding the thermals rising from the island.

"Didn’t this place have some kind of settlement?”, Chloé wondered aloud, idly picking at the varnish of her manicure. 

Marinette frowned, thinking. “Yeah. Somewhere south and east of us, other side of the mountain. Maybe, hmm, ten kilometers? But you’re not going anywhere until that ankle gets better, along with those blisters you got from your sandals. And as much as we fight, I’m not leaving you…”

“To die", Chloé finished. 

Marinette nodded, silent.

“Do you think it’ll hurt?” Quiet, a bit haunted.

“Can we please not talk about it?”, Marinette sighed, annoyed.

Silence. Chloé rolled on her side, facing Marinette's feet, fingertip tracing in the dirt.

“We could go swimming", Chloé suggested.

Marinette almost chucked. “Beats slowly roasting.” A pause. “Sure. C'mon, I’ll help you down to the beach, cripple.”

*-*-*

Chloé had been right. The sea was almost cool in comparison to the heated air. 

The two recent adversaries paddled and floated languidly in waist deep water.

“Where did you find that black and red racing suit?”

Marinette dunked her head to cool off before answering. “Online. Mom flipped when she saw the price.”

Gentle lapping of water.

“People lived here ten thousand years ago", Chloé announced. “There’s supposed to be a cave somewhere here on Gioura. Greek legend says the Cyclops lived there, before Odysseus killed him.”

Marinette half floated, feet barely touching the sandy sea-floor. “Never really cared for Greek myth. Too down on women.”

Chloé regarded Marinette speculatively. “Which Greek woman would you be?”

A moment’s thought as Marinette recalled what she knew of Greek myth. “Atalanta, probably. You know how I’m always running.”

Chloé snickered. “More like running late, you mean.”

Marinette spouted water at her. “You’d be Helen, no doubt”, she pronounced smugly. 

Chloé shook her head, a bit sad. “Let’s be honest. I’d be Pandora.”

Marinette was slightly shocked at the level of introspection

Chloé rolled in the water and paddled back to shore.

*-*-*

The Disc of Helios was a ball of scarlet, just kissing the crest of the mountain to the west. Both of them stretched out on the dirt floor of the shelter, Marinette's daypack almost serving as a pillow for both of them, a travel towel from its contents draped around their shoulders against the coming evening’s chill, Marinette as ‘big spoon' to conserve warmth as they lay there, watching the sun set.

“Not how I envisioned my graduation trip turning out”, Chloé said quietly. “I was hoping for something a little more…romantic.”

“Hmm. More ‘Pygmalion', less ‘Othello'?”

“DuPain-Chang?”

“Hmm?”

“Sometimes you’re too smart for your own good.”

The sun was a sliver of fire on the horizon, fading, fading…

“Oh!”, Chloé gasped.

“What?!”

“I saw the green flash!”


	2. Chapter 2

Day 3 – July 12

Marinette was woken by the trembling.

“Chloé? Are you alright?”

The blonde nodded jerkily. “O-oui. Just f-f-freezing m-my ass off!”

Marinette rubbed Chloé’s skin on her arm, leg, and back where she could reach to try and get circulation flowing. 

“O-oh, l-leave o-off! Th-that’s n-not help-ping!”, she moaned in misery.

Frustration needled Marinette, irritation in her tone. “What do you want me to do?!” 

“F-fire w-would be n-nice!”, Chloé suggested. “J-just drop m-me in-n it!”

Marinette sat up and peeled off her t-shirt to sit in her clinging one piece swimsuit, shivering herself, then making a protesting Chloé don the still warm garment over her bathing wrap, draping the travel towel over Chloé’s legs.

“W-what about y-you?”, Chloé mumbled, slowly warming. 

Marinette tucked her hands under her crossed arms, tucked into a ball behind Chloé. “I’ll manage until the sun comes up properly”, she shivered.

“M-martyr", Chloé grumbled softly.

*-*-*

Marinette woke for the second time, warmer, the sun finally reaching her face. Chloé had hobbled over to the bench on her own, where she sat enveloped in her now grimy beach wrap, sunhat partly concealing her face as she stared pensively at the shallow chop beside the jetty. Pennons of sunflower yellow stirred slightly in the morning breeze as they hung from the cast iron frame.

It took several heartbeats for Marinette to realize those were Chloé’s bikini top and bottom.

That made her sit up, her t-shirt falling off her shoulders where Chloé had draped it.

“You’re going to want to take that tank suit off unless you want a stunning infection from salt chafing”, Chloé suggested, not looking up. “Trust me, it’s high on the list of ‘Not Fun’.”

“Uhhh…”, Marinette hesitated.

“Oh, grow up! There’s literally no-one around for miles in any direction, and neither of us has anything we haven’t already seen a thousand times.”

With a shrug, Marinette stood and skinned out of the clinging lycra and spandex swimwear, feeling it peel away where the salt water had dried the fabric to her skin, and padded barefoot and nude to sit next to Chloé on the bench, just to demonstrate she was just as fearless as the blonde heiress, t-shirt and swimsuit gripped in her fist.

Chloé snickered. “Liberating, isn’t it?”

The question jarred Marinette. 

For a moment, she was nothing but raw sensation. Warmth. Light. The sighing breeze. Dry dust scent of vegetation. An earthy, musky, mammalian undertone. The sea surging and sighing against the stone jetty. Bird and insect calls. Leaves dancing, tethered to their stalks and branches. Something pop-splashed in the distance.

“Wow.” Whispered.

“Sun screen and cover up before you get a burn, dumb ass.”

“You’ve got no poetry in your soul, Chloé.” 

Marinette's rival sighed. “See? You think your better than me just because you can draw pretty pictures.”

“So you admit I've got talent then?”

“Dodged the question.”

“So did you.”

Chloé exhaled slowly, frowning, staring out over the clear water. “This is pointless. We’re stuck here. We might as well call a truce.” She extended her hand, looking away. “Pax?”

The handshake was tentative. “Pax.”

The duo sat on the bench, mismatched yin and yang.

“How much water do we have left?”

Marinette padded over to look in her daypack, holding up the bottle. “About a cup. Thirsty?”

“Saharan.” Chloé caught the tossed bottle, drinking a judiciously cautious sip.

“Oh, for…take a proper drink, idiot. Your getting heatstroke won’t help”, Marinette fumed. 

Two deep swallows. Half a cup left. 

“ ’On the Beach' or ‘Lord of the Flies’?”

“Don’t be morbid, Chloé.”

Chloé abruptly stood up, threw off her wrap and sunhat, stubbornly limping, lurching, gasping to the end of the jetty, an old ivory statue, hair tangled by the breeze, slipping out of her ponytail, a goddess of old, nude and defiant.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH!! FUUUUCK YOUUUU!!”, she howled, both fists clenched, taut, torso bowed, legs tensing.

Marinette dashed to the end of the jetty, pulling the sobbing young woman back from the edge. “I don' wanna die! I don' wanna die! It’s not fair! Fucking not fair!”, Chloé raged, struggling in Marinette’s embrace. 

“Come on, come sit down.” Marinette led a sniffling Chloé back to the shelter, getting her to sit, letting her bawl until she was exhausted, fighting down her own growing panic, gently rocking with Chloé until she settled. 

Chloé’s hat had blown from the jetty to the beach.

Marinette stroked Chloé’s fine blonde hair, calming her, Chloé’s cheek on her shoulder, feeling her tears slowly descend down her bare breast.

“Thank you.” A faint whisper.

“S'okay.” 

Chloé sat up and swivelled around to sit beside Marinette, wiping away her last tears, sniffled. “Shit. I just wasted that drink. Good old Chloé, fucking it up for everyone else again.” She stared out at the sea.

Marinette put her arm around Chloé’s shoulders, pulling her close for a moment. “It’s okay.”

“Three days, huh? Unless we get rescued first.”

A silent nod.

Chloé looked away, knuckles to her mouth. “Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“You’re like, freakishly calm about this situation.”

A shrug. “Not much I can do about it right now. I’m just tired. Tired of fighting with you. And I’m too hot.”

“You giving up?”

“And let you get the last word in? Hell, no.”

“Bitch.” Chloé rested her head on Marinette's shoulder.

Marinette chuckled. “Yep.”

“I’m glad it’s you.”

“Hmm?”

“Here. Now. Sabrina would have been useless.”

“You should give her more credit.”

Chloé chuckled. “Fine. You convinced me. If we get out of this, I’ll buy her lunch.”

“Make it dinner and a movie.”

“What’s that?”

“Hmm? What?”

Chloé lifted her head, and pointed. “There. Orange. In the water.”

Marinette sat up, eyes scanning. There! “Chloé! Gimme my bag!”

“Huh? Okay.” The daypack changed hands, and Marinette rummaged inside, removing a pair of swimming goggles. She got up, striding down to the waterline, Chloé limping behind her.

“What’s going on, Marinette?”

“I think we just got rescued!” Marinette high-knee walked out into the crystal clear water until she could plunge naked, headfirst into a swift forward crawl.

Chloé waited anxiously on the strand, leaning against the jetty. Marinette trudged up out of the surf minutes later, clutching a bright orange vinyl bag.

“What…?” Chloé was dubious. 

“Lifeboat bag!”, Marinette grinned. "Must have been washed overboard during the storm."

“Yes!!”, Chloé cheered, both arms in the air, jumping, landing heavily on her bad ankle, tipping over onto the sand. “Shit!”

“Graceful", Marinette snickered. 

“Bite me, DuPain-Chang.”

*-*-* 

Sitting against the shelter in the shade of the North side, the girls took inventory of all they had.

Their clothing amounted to a yellow bikini, red and black tank suit, a t-shirt a size larger than actually fitted either of them, Chloé’s formerly white beach wrap, a wide-brimmed sunhat, a red kerchief, one pair of slip-on deck shoes, and a pair of wedge-heel sandals.

Both girls had mobile phones, incompatible with each other, plus a back-up power supply and charging cable. No actual chargers. Chloé’s mobile had twenty-three percent of its battery life left. Marinette was at fifty-seven percent.

Two wallets with identification and debit and credit cards. Two sets of house keys.

Two water bottles, one empty, one almost so. A paperback book on Neolithic archaeology, Marinette's sketchbook, pencils and two pens, a selfie-stick, one Swiss army knife, a cheap pen knife (Chloé’s), one pair of sunglasses, partially consumed pack of chewing gum, Marinette’s pocket sewing kit, a mint tin turned into a very small first aid kit, ten painkillers, half a pocket pack of facial tissue, two tampons, five sanitary napkins, a pair of swimming goggles, a string shopping bag, one hair brush, one comb, lipstick case with lipstick and small mirror, a handful of hair elastics, two bottles of sun block, the travel towel, and surprisingly from Chloé, an emergency plastic poncho, and two travel toothbrushes. 

One daypack and Chloé’s woven beach tote.

The waterproof vinyl lifeboat bag was an unqualified blessing and a mild disaster. Two sealed boxes of lifeboat ration biscuits, three sealed boxes of drinking water in individual pouches, a Leatherman Wave multi-tool, two graduated drinking cups, a panic snap, a proper first-aid kit, two mylar blankets, a lifeboat ditty bag containing a sail-makers palm, several sail needles and linen cord, a film canister containing storm-proof matches, two one hundred meter hanks of parachute cord, a roll of bathroom tissue, a packet of duct tape, five sick bags, an engineers compass, a permanent match, and a small hatchet. A small plastic pouch contained several wallet-sized stainless steel cards, laser-cut to form expedient fish hooks, trident barbs, needles, small saws, and thumb-sized knives.

Chloé held up a segmented zip-seal bag with three small metal tabs in it. The tabs had a sharp spur that folded open at a right angle. “What are these?”

Marinette grinned, recognizing the items from her great grand-father’s military service. “Can openers.”

“Oh.” Chloé said, then she grinned, holding up a six-sided liter bottle of brown liquid. She broke the seal, opened the bottle, sniffed. “Score!”

Marinette read the label. “Lamb's Navy Rum, seventy proof. Jesus! That’s paint stripper!”

Missing from the lifeboat bag was any hint of a radio or signalling devices.

“Well, at least we won’t starve immediately", Marinette sighed. “We’ve got enough water and food for us to stick by the shelter until your ankle is up to hiking to the old settlement.”

Chloé opened one of the boxes of ration bars, extracting and unwrapping one of the wax paper-wrapped consumables. It looked pale and rather unappealing. She tried an experimental nibble, making a face, chewing and swallowing after repeated attempts. “Ugh! That’s revolting!”

Marinette tried a bite. Sweet, fatty, salted corn-meal mush. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled as her tongue rebelled. “Oh, that’s awful!”

They each ate one of the ration bars, sharing one of the pouches of water.

Marinette inspected the contents of the first-aid kit, and smiled. It had what she was looking for. “C'mon. We’re getting rid of those blisters.”

*-*-*

Firelight flickered and rippled, reflected from one of the mylar space blankets. Chloé snuggled next to Marinette, each of them holding a graduated cup containing an agreed-to amount of the potent rum.

“Who would guess your amateur couturier skills would come in so handy, Doctor DuPain-Chang?”, Chloé giggled.

“It squirted me", Marinette deadpanned. “I’m sending you my therapist bills.”

Chloé giggled again. “Use mine. You’ll get a discount”

“You. In therapy.”

“Oh, fuck yes! I’m a goddamn mess, Marinette. Half of Paris would dance in the street if I dropped dead. Hell, they probably started partying yesterday.” Chloé took a sip of her rum, grimaced. 

“Are you on medication? Should I be worried?”

“No meds. They fuck me up too much. I get too sad. Guilt, Doktor Head-shrinker says.” Another sip.

Marinette sniffed at her cup suspiciously. The fumes alone made her light-headed.

Chloé sighed, almost content. “Relax, Marinette. We made it through the crisis.”

“Yeah. We did.”

“Nice to know I can count on you.”

“Are you drunk, Chloé?”

“Probably.”

Marinette shrugged, drained her cup, gasping.

“Lightweight", Chloé snickered, drained the last of her own cup. “Oof.”

“You were saying?”

Marinette settled, staring into the fire until Chloé blocked her line of sight, cuddling up as the ‘little spoon’. Marinette shifted, chuckling.

“What? My ass is cold.”

Skin against skin.

“Goodnight, Chloé.”

A pause. 

“Goodnight, Marinette. Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Day 4 – July 13

Something smelled incredibly delicious. The scent tickled and teased, enticing, irritatingly familiar.

Chloé opened her eyes.

Marinette grinned, looking up from tending the fish she was carefully broiling over the coals. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“What? Marinette? How?”

“I think it’s a common seabream. And with our new fishing spear.” Marinette nodded at the object leaning against the shelter, barbed tines glinting in the sun.

“That’s my selfie stick!”

“Was. Now it's actually useful.”

Chloé sat up, sweeping sleep-tangled hair out of her eyes, confronting Marinette. “You could have asked first!”

“You want breakfast or not?”

Chloé sighed, relenting. “Gimme.”

Marinette handed over a steaming cup of flaky white fish a few minutes later. Chloé merely moaned in gustatory bliss as the hot meal stung her tongue, wolfing it down, scooping up mouthfuls she chewed and swallowed, wiping the inside of the cup with a finger to lick up the last crumb.

Marinette smiled, plucking morsels of fish from her own cup. ”Someone was hungry.”

“Ravenous.” Chloé’s pink tongue licked her finger. “Always am after a drink or two.”

Marinette joined her in the shelter. “How’s the ankle?”

Chloé lifted her foot from the ground, flexed experimentally. “A bit stiff. Still sore, but not as bad.” 

Marinette gently prodded it with her fingertips, supporting Chloé's leg with her free hand. “Doesn’t look as puffy either.” 

“What’s the prognosis?”

“Looks like both amputation and shooting you are off the list”, Marinette teased, handing over two painkillers from their meager supply.

Chloé stuck her tongue out. 

“Pass me the bog roll. Nature calls.”

*-*-*

Marinette heard soft moans, gasps, as she approached the shelter. Did Chloé somehow manage to injure herself again in the few minutes Marinette had been away? 

“Ohn, ohh, ahh…”

That…didn’t sound like someone in pain… Marinette stepped around the side of the shelter, curious.

“O-oh, Mari, yes…!”, Chloé panted, opened her eyes, looked up, and went pale.

*-*-*  
They sat in opposite corners of the shelter, Marinette, with her arms folded over her knees, staring out at the sea, a faint furrow between her brows. Chloé was in a similar posture, nipping at a knuckle, pointedly not looking at Marinette.

Marinette almost started to speak, stopped, opened one hand, shook her head slightly, tried again, paused, eyes searching for something, anything to focus on but Chloé. 

Chloé sighed, irritable. “Your timing sucks.”

“Apparently! What the hell, Chloé?!”

Chloé leaned against the wall beside her, staring the jetty where the misadventure had begun. “I get really horny right before my cycle starts…”

“And you thought you’d just jill one out while I was--"

“That was the idea", Chloé scowled.

“Why me?!”

“Because I’ve got a crush on you!”

Stunned silence.

“Well?”, Chloé demanded, hand palm up.

“Give me a minute. I’m processing.”

Waves lapped at the beach. Sunlight changed it's angle in the shelter.

“How long?” Quietly.

“A while.” Chloé pouted, picking at her nail varnish.

Marinette glared at her rival. “You’ve been an utter bitch to me for years!”

“Yeah, well, I was jealous.”

“You chased Adrian!”

“Because you wanted him.”

“Chloé!!”

“You think I don’t know how messed up that is?!”

“You were, are, the prettiest girl in school! You have everything! Money, looks…”

“And a goddamn nightmare family.”

“What?” Marinette was confused.

“I wasn’t just jealous of you and Adrian! I was jealous of your family! Your parents are perfect!”

Marinette scoffed. “Hardly. You should hear the arguments over money.”

“You have the best patisserie in Paris!”

“Yeah, running on a knife edge.”

Silence again. Marinette looked away.

“You knew Adrian longer than I did. Your families run in the same circles.”

Chloé covered her eyes with a hand. Hiding tears. “Yeah, that’s a whole other can of rotten worms…”

Silence.

“Fuck it.” Chloé exhaled hard, wiping away a tear. “Lysa says truth is best, even if it hurts you for telling it. Remember when you kissed Adrian? At Heroes Day?”

“Yeah. So? Only time I ever kissed him.”

“Think back. Remember exactly how you felt, what that day was like, the excitement, even the embarrassment”, Chloé urged.

“Uh, okay? And?” Marinette’s curiosity was piqued.

“Got that scene fixed in your mind?”

“I’m not likely to ever forget it", Marinette smirked.

“Good. Remember how soft and warm Adrian’s lips were.”

“Okaaaay…” This was getting creepy.

“Now imagine you just kissed your brother.”

Marinette's internal soundtrack scratched.

“You’re fucking with me…”

Chloé sighed. “You have no idea how I wish that was true.” She turned to face her…what? Confessor? “Have I ever lied to you?”

Marinette paused. “No.” That much was true. 

“Two years ago, I did one of those mail-in DNA tests that were all the rage. I wanted to be sure I was hanging out with the ‘right’ people--"

“That’s fucked up, Chloé”

Glared daggers. “Don’t interrupt. I badgered ‘Dear Adrikins’ into taking the same test.” Chloé pounded a fist into her thigh. “Fuck. This is harder than…” Quietly, wiping away a tear. “The results came back. We have alleles in common. Paternal alleles.”

Marinette put a hand to her mouth in shock. “That means…”

Chloé laughed without humor, drawing her ponytail over her shoulder. “Blonde hair is a recessive trait. So is being gay.” She slumped back against the shelter wall. “So that’s it. I’m a double dirty little secret. Triple if you count the political scandal that would result if people knew the former Mayor of Paris’ bitchy daughter was a bastard.”

“I never knew…”

Chloé scoffed. “Why do you think Mother never remembered my birthday? I was a walking, talking daily reminder of her indiscretion.” She crossed her arms, trying to hide from herself. “Mother can’t stand the sight of me. It’s why she walked out. And why I’m a goddamned buffet of insecurity, abandonment issues, anxiety, P.T.S.D., depression…fuck, you name it.” A dismissive wave of her hand.

“I’m so sorry”, Marinette mumbled, knowing it was utterly inadequate. 

“Don’t you dare pity me!”, Chloé snapped, fire in her expression.

Marinette frowned. “Compassion isn’t pity.” She snickered.

“What?” Defensive.

Sapphire blue eyes smiled at Chloé. “I’m not going to lie. The thought of the prettiest, most desired girl in the school rubbing one out to me is…umm…kinda…hot.”

Color rose in Chloé’s cheeks. “I need a drink.”

“Oh hell, why not? Pass it over after you have some.”

Both young women partook, Marinette moving to sit beside the heiress. 

“Here’s to the queers!”, Marinette toasted, lifting the bottle in salute and taking another sip.

“Wait! You dated Luka!”, Chloé grinned.

“Briefly”, Marinette nodded, wincing from the sting of the rum. “Nice guy. Had a silver tongue he didn’t know how to use properly.”

Chloé screamed laughter. “No!!”

Marinette nodded. “Alya, on the other hand…”

“No!!”

A shrug. “She wanted to experiment. Besides, those curves…”

“You. Bi.”

Marinette nodded. “I came out to my parents last year. Dad made a Pride macaron Eiffel Tower.”

“Bitch. You could have told me”, Chloé sniffed, arms crossed. Her coy smile said she wasn’t actually offended.

“We were rivals then”, Marinette pointed out with a smile.

“So do I get to ogle you openly now?”

“Hmm. Convince me.”

The kiss was shy, hesitant. 

“Don’t play with me, Marinette. I…don’t…handle rejection well. Or, at all. In or out, all the way. No games.” Pale blue eyes searched sapphire, terrified to witness an awful truth.

“Why me? Why not Sabrina?” Marinette had to know.

Chloé smiled sadly. 

“Sabrina is a sweet kid.” A glance away, then back to gaze at Marinette. “But…”

“But…?”

Chloé tentatively took Marinette’s hand. “She’s too eager to please. And, please understand I’m not being cruel, she’s about as challenging as a one word, three letter crossword puzzle, and the clue is “The opposite of ‘non'.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Chloé. I don’t want to make promises I might not be able to keep.”

Chloé shrugged. “Broken promises are nothing new to me. Background noise in my life.”

Marinette looked out at the water. The horizon. The world, infinitely out of reach.

“Be honest, Mari. Who's your inspiration?”

“Edith Head.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I know you hate liars, so don’t you dare lie to me!”

The wind sighed, whispering ancient secrets to the grass and sea.

The answer made Chloé’s heart hammer and skip, quiet but clear as a perfect diamond.

“You. You inspire me. I wanted to make my name by getting the richest girl I knew to wear clothing I designed. So I had to push. Hard. No matter how cruel and bitchy you were, I was going to show you I was…worthy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It a bit of a shock to find out my bully had the hots for me.”

Chloé frowned, tears welling in her eyes, lower lip quivering. “I understand.” Starting to turn away. The hand on her arm making her pause.

“I said convince me. You did.” Marinette’s hand tightened on Chloé’s.

A tiny wellspring of hope in Chloé’s heart made her catch her breath. 

“In.” A deep breath for Marinette, a leap of courage. “I’m in.”


	4. Chapter 4

Day 5 – July 14

Chloé dozed in the shelter, naked, stretched out on her beach wrap while Marinette tended the small fire, cooking their breakfast, courtesy of an improving spear-fishing skill. Time dwindled into the distance, no longer controlling their destinies. Here and now were all that mattered.

It was primal. Sacred.

Marinette began to have the inklings of the beginning of starting to comprehend why ancient ‘women's mysteries’ were so incredibly tenacious. Relevant. Powerful.

Why men feared that knowledge.

Marinette smiled, looking fondly at the sleeping Chloé. She was serene, all curves and pale golden skin. 

‘Down, girl', Marinette thought to herself. ‘Plenty of time to pounce on Chloé once we get rescued.’

*-*-*

Chloé frowned in her sleep. Not unhappy. More curious at the faint, feathery tickling sensation on the back of her thigh, near her bottom…  
“Later, Mari", she mumbled, half aware, half awake, waving a hand at what she thought was her… girlfriend? 

A flutter of dark blue wings lifted up, away from Chloé. 

“JESUS SHIT NO GET IT THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! NOOO, HE'S FOUND ME!!”, Chloé exploded in a spasm of stark terror, flailing, scrambling, screaming, her head impacting the plank wall of the shelter with a sickening ‘thud' that made Marinette drop their breakfast in the fire, leaping to Chloé’s side, dropping to her knees.

Marinette wrapped her arms around the panic-stricken blonde, calming, consoling, concerned at the wild, staring, haunted pale blue eyes.

“You're safe! You're safe! No one’s going to hurt you. There’s nobody here.”

Chloé trembled violently. “He’s here! He found me!! Oh, run, Mari! Run! Please! I don’t want to hurt you!”, she panted. “The butterfly! He’s here! Noooooooo…”, Chloé wailed, tears running down her cheeks.

The coin dropped for Marinette, pieces falling into place.

“You're safe, Chloé. Papillion is a thousand miles away. It's just you and me. The bastard cant find you. I wont let him hurt you again, not ever again.” Consoling, comforting. “Shhh…Shhh…you’re safe…you're safe….it’s alright.” Tears ran down Marinette’s cheeks.

Chloé wept, Marinette rocking with her, stroking pale blonde hair as the fish broiled to an inedible blackened crisp.

“It was drinking my blood…”, Chloé whispered in horror, staring at fingers stained crimson by the first trickles of this month's cycle.

*-*-*

Chloé sipped at her graduated cup, head throbbing from a combination of emotional overload and pain, wincing as gentle fingers explored her scalp.

“That’s one hell of a lump, girl. I don’t envy you the headache that must be along for the ride.”

“Lepidoptrophobia.”

“What?” Marinette was baffled by the non-sequitur. “I’d ask if you hit your head, but I saw you try to use your skull as a battering ram. What the hell is going on?”

“Lepidoptrophobia. A morbid fear of fucking butterflies, of all things.”

“Papillion”, Marinette deadpanned, understanding.

“Papillion", Chloé nodded, sighing. “Ow.” 

“My poor girl…”

Chloé sighed, sipped more water as they sat under the shelter. 

“It’s my own fault--"

“Chloé, no--"

“Chloé, yes.”, the blonde heiress countered. “If I wasn’t such a fucking emotional train wreck, I wouldn’t have been akumatised, what, three, four times? At least once I actually said yes, volunteered, when that twisted bastard took me over.” Chloé was disgusted with herself, not able to look at Marinette. “I understand if you want to run.”

“No.”

Chloé swept blonde hair out of her eyes, peering at Marinette, who knelt beside her, focused on the ground, fists clenched. “What?”

“I said ‘No’. I’m not running out on you. I’m not abandoning you, not like that bitch mother of yours.”

“You’ll get hurt, sooner or later. I’ll hurt you, Mari, because I’m always too close by when that maniac sends out his akuma. Remember when Mademoiselle Bustier turned into Zombizoo? My fault. Mother and Daddy becoming Style Queen and Malediktator? My fault. Me getting akumatised, usually while you are around, at least until Ladybug shows up…”

Chloé paused. Slowly stood up.

Marinette rose to her feet, uncertain.

Chloé looked down, brow furrowed in concentration. “Someone gets akumatized…goes on a rampage…Ladybug and Chat Noir appear…but you run off, Marinette…”

“Please stop, Chloé”, Marinette whispered, anxiety screaming at her. “Please…”

Chloé was staring at her. 

“You’re ‘Ladybug'…”

“Chloé, no, please…”

Eyes darting, comparing, evaluating. “You're Ladybug. Deny it. I dare you!”

“Chloé!!” Begging.

“YOU BITCH!!”

The slap ‘cracked’ like a cannon off Marinette’s cheek, a blazing, searing whipcrack scarlet handprint of rage and shame.

“Chloé…”

“I HATE YOU!!”, Chloé howled, livid, tears pouring out of her eyes. “I worshipped you!! I wanted to be you!! And now, Now I find out the girl I love, have loved all this time is… I HURT PEOPLE BECAUSE OF YOU!!” The accusation burned worse than the physical assault.

Chloé dropped to her knees, arms wrapped around herself, head bowed, sobbing.

Broken.

Weeping, Marinette lifted a hand, one infinite tiny step in Chloé’s direction.

“NO!!”, Chloé flinched, scrambling in avoidance. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!!”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Shut up!! Just shut up!!”

Marinette retreated to the end of the jetty. 

Chloé hid in a corner of the shelter.

The sound of quiet tears whispering on the indifferent wind. 

Sun. Heat. The sky going from hard ceramic blue to blue-silver to pale amber.

The eternal horizon of the wine dark sea.

Soft footsteps. A sigh. The shadow behind and beside Marinette.

“You’re burned. You’re going to get sick.” 

“So?”

“So, what?”

“You hate me.”

Chloé sat on the edge of the jetty, legs dangling, beside Marinette.

“I wanted to. I really did.” Moments passed as Chloé gathered her thoughts. “Lysa has been a big help for me. Helped me get my head together, taught me to think, not just react. After I finished feeling sorry for myself, that’s what I did. You couldn’t tell me, could you?”

Marinette nodded, miserable.

“You couldn't tell anyone.”

Marinette nodded again, silent.

“Jesus…” Chloé paled slightly. “How long?”

“Five years", Marinette croaked, voice hoarse from weeping, exhaustion.

“Since…fuck! Who did this to you?! Your parents?!” Demanding, outrage in Chloé’s voice.

“No. No idea. Just one day, boom. I’m the ‘Chosen One’.” 

“Five years!!” Disbelief.

Marinette nodded. “Five years. Bailing on people, missing out on things, lying to people.” She sighed, more than tired. “Five years of trying to meet expectations, terrified that Papillion will finally win. And running. So much running…”

“Alone. Even when you were beside cat boy.”

Another nod.

Chloé stared at the sea, fierce determination in her eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill the sick bastard who did this to you.”

“Can’t. He’s already dead. Probably.”

“Fuck.”

Sunset shadows reached out for them.

“God. Dammit”, Chloé muttered a while later, annoyed.

“What?” Softly.

“I’m sitting in a puddle of my own blood.”

Marinette snickered. “I’m sorry.”

Chloé grinned. “Stick around. If you like regular bitchy Chloé, extra-crispy hormone psycho-bitch period Chloé is a real goddamned treat!” She struggled to her feet. “Oh, yuck! Yup, blood everywhere. Goddamn it. Three days of my panties looking like a murder scene. And I really liked that bikini.” 

Marinette got up, hissing at the stinging pain that blossomed in her heated skin. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“Thanks, I can do--", Chloé paused. “Screw it, I guess we’re girlfriends now, we’re gonna bathe together at some point, right?” 

Marinette nodded, blushing.

“C’mon, idiot. Let’s see if the first-aid kit has something for you”, Chloé scoffed affectionately. 

*-*-*

Chloé leaned against the back wall of the shelter, legs in front of her, watching the fire as she idly stroked Marinette's soft blue-black hair as her girlfriend rested, head on her thighs. The wrappers from lifeboat ration bars flaking to white ash. Cups of tepid water close to hand.

“Geez, you really barbequed yourself, Mari.”

“Do I get to call you ‘Chlo'?”

Chloé smiled, indulgent. “Only you.”

“Okay.”

Comfortable silence.

“I guess we know each other’s biggest secrets”, Marinette observed.

“Mine's only embarrassing”, Chloé pointed out. “Yours can get you killed.”

Silence again. 

“Goddamit.” Wry amusement from Chloé. “I’m Margo Lane. You turned me into Margo Lane!”

“Who?”

“The Shadow's girlfriend!”

“Huh?”

“Wonderful. I’m in love with an uneducated barbarian…”

“A cute uneducated barbarian?”

“Yes, dear", Chloé leaned over to peck Marinette on the cheek. “Gorgeous.”

Impulsively, Marinette kissed Chloé’s belly, making her gasp. 

“Goddamit, don’t do that! I’m already too horny as it is!”

Marinette giggled.

“Tease!”

The fire crackled.

“Who’s the Shadow?”

“Pulp superhero. Tim Curry is in a movie they did, oh, way back.”

“Oh”, Marinette nodded, sleepy from pain.

The stars stared down from velvet black infinity.

“Know what I miss?”, Marinette mused.

“If it’s anything to do with food, I’m going to pinch you", Chloé advised.

“Music.”

Chloé smiled, stroked Marinette's hair.

“Just you know why,  
Why you and I,   
Will by and by,  
Know true love ways…”, Chloé serenaded.


	5. Chapter 5

Day 6 – July 15

The sea was much cooler in the morning, even after the thin mist had burned off, sun barely a handswidth above the eastern horizon. Chloé crouched in the shallows, using her legs to cradle Marinette’s head as she lay on the soft, white sand bottom, breathing shallowly, face pinched, eyes unfocused. Chloé dripped water from a wet corner of the travel towel on her parched lips. Wavelets lapped around Marinette's breasts.

“I told you you got burned yesterday", Chloé repeated, quietly. “Now we have to try and keep you cool.”

“But we have to get to the settlement…”, Marinette complained.

“Not in the heat of the day.”

“But we need water!”

“We have one box left. It’ll do until early tomorrow. I’m not going to let you kill yourself trying to save me. Now hush.”

Marinette was sick in the bushes later that day, the lifeboat ration biscuits too rich for her heat-shocked system. Chloé held her hair back until the storm had passed, then lay beside Marinette, in the cooler shade provided by the north side of the shelter, reading to her.

They slept, dozing in the shade, Chloé starting awake every time Marinette moaned in her sleep.

Day 7 – July 16

“I think I’ve figured out why no one’s come looking for us”, Marinette announced, tying her kerchief as a headscarf.

The sun was maybe two finger-widths above the horizon. Chloé’s watch said it was just before seven in the morning. 

Chloé looked up from packing her share of their belongings in the vinyl lifeboat bag, which had proved to have adjustable shoulder straps. “Oh?”

“Medicane.”

“Enlighten the ignorant if you please, DuPain-Chang”, Chloé smirked.

“Medicane. Mediterranean cyclone. We probably got clipped by the northern edge on our first night. If it was a bad one, or as bad as these storms can get, the Greek authorities probably don’t have the time or resources to rescue two lost tourist girls in a wildlife preserve.”

Chloé nodded. “Sounds reasonable. Sucks to be the two lost girls though.”

Marinette consulted the compass that had arrived in the lifeboat bag. “Ready?”

“Do you have any idea what your doing?”

“Barely.”

Chloé blew out a breath, anxious. “You’re in better shape than I am then.” She handed Marinette the daypack, who hissed as the pack straps settled, pressing her t-shirt into tender sun-burned skin. “Can we go slow on the trails, please? I’m going barefoot because I don’t want to break an ankle this time.”

“You’re going to miss your mani-pedi if that’s the plan.”

Chloé looked beseechingly at the dawning sky. “Why me, oh gods?”, she intoned with comedic intent.

Marinette sidestepped. Chloé raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I’m not getting hit by lightning, thank you.”

“Bitch", Chloé grinned.

“How long do you think It’ll take to get there?”, Chloé puffed about an hour later as they followed a faint path along the escarpment of the abrupt rocky cliffs that comprised most of the shoreline of the island.

“Maybe early tomorrow? You won’t let me travel in the heat of the day--"

“Damn right I won’t!”, Chloé huffed. 

“So we go as far as we can, lie up until it cools off, then hike until it gets dark, see how far we get, I guess.”

They walked in silence , mindful of their passage, leery of the jagged drop into the sea below.

“Marinette?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you changed into Ladybug?”

Marinette panted, helping pull Chloé up a steep part of the trail. “Can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t. On vacation, remember? (Watch your step here, it’s loose).”

Chloé picked her way around the treacherous part pointed out. “So…who’s looking after Paris while you're here?”

“Someone I trust.”

“Oh.” Chloé pondered as they walked. “Have I met them?”

Marinette stopped, breathing hard, thinking how best to answer. But she knew she couldn’t lie to Chloé. Ever again.

“The less you know about me as Ladybug, the safer you are. I’m literally trusting you with my life, and those of everyone I know, people you know too. Still want to know who is filling in for me?”

Chloé kissed her, then leaned back, looking into Marinette's eyes.

“That’s one of the reasons I fell for you. But as of right now, I invoke Rule Number One.”

Marinette returned the kiss, gently, tasting the sweat on Chloé’s lip. “What’s ‘Rule Number One’?”

“You’re not allowed to die on me.”

Another kiss, Marinette initiating, hungry. 

“That’s goes for you too.”

Chloé grinned. “Deal.”

The sun was nearing its apex, and the path had started to descend toward a small white sand beach. The girls picked a careful path, dodging scrub bush that tried to snag them, and outcrops of volcanic granite, some of which stood taller than they did. Stepping left around one such outcrop, Marinette halted suddenly, Chloé bumping into her. 

“What?--"

“Shhh!”, Marinette hissed, pointing at the luxury yacht gently rocking in the swell, white paint gleaming in the sun, broad dove grey stripes highlighted by bright Tyrian purple lines. The anchors made the boat point bow to the north, perhaps fifty meters off shore.

Raised voices could be heard. Raised male voices. Marinette and Chloé crouched, trying to stay out of sight.

One man, muscular, but not heavyset, dark haired, features indistinct with distance, walked slowly, backwards, hands raised until the transom bumped behind his knees. A second man, visible from the shoulders down because of the flying bridge held a small pistol in his hand, trained on the first man.

The legs of a third person could just barely be made out. His voice was pitched low, difficult to hear. Man number two seemed to obey him. Man number one seemed to be arguing, pleading, trying to make a point man number three didn’t or wouldn’t listen to.

A quiet comment.

The pistol barked three times, pop-pop-pop, and man number one went rag doll limp, falling backwards into the sea, smearing blood as he slid off the hull.

Marinette heard the sudden gasping intake of breath bedside her, reacting with lightning reflexes, pinioning Chloé, wrapping her legs around her, pinning her arm, one hand over her mouth, staring at panicked blue eyes.

“If you scream, we die", Marinette whispered fiercely. “They will hear us, they will find us, and we will die! Do you understand?! “

Chloé nodded frantically, white sunhat bobbing. 

“Don’t. Move.”

The girls lay there in the dirt, sweating. 

The corpse bobbed in the swell, an obscene bath-tub toy.

Chloé tapped Marinette’s hand over her mouth several times, her breathing shallow but slow.

Marinette barely moved her hand. 

“I’m okay", Chloé whispered, so quietly Marinette could hardly hear her over the breeze. “I’m okay, but let me breathe.”

The big marine diesel engines rumbled to life, anchor chains clattering up. A surge of prop-wash white foam, and the yacht heeled hard to starboard, heading southerly for open water, abandoning the corpse.

Still the girls lay there, waiting until the yacht had vanished over the horizon. And waited. And waited.

“That looked nothing like the movies!", Chloé whimpered quietly. 

Marinette gingerly levered herself up, peering around the outcrop.

“What are you doing?!!”, Chloé hissed, frantic.

“They’re gone.”

Chloé peeked too. “You smell”, she noted offhand.

“Yeah, well, I kinda wet myself! It’s not every day I witness cold-blooded murder!”

Chloé shuddered. “Lysa is going to be busy when we get home.”

*-*-*

The body had beached itself, legs swaying slightly in the waves as they cautiously approached. 

“I don’t believe you’re doing this!”, Chloé protested, clinging to Marinette's arm.

“We need to take pictures! Without evidence, no-one will believe us!”

Mobiles were retrieved from packs, multiple pictures taken. 

Marinette was the one who dared to go through the dead man’s pockets. A driver’s license gave him a name. They recorded everything.

Chloé was violently ill.

The trail leading up the slope crossed a bubbling, chuckling freshet that ran down from a cave, marked by a plaque.

“There’s your Cyclopes’ Cave, Chloé. What say we hide in there until morning?” 

Tucked out of sight, they built a small fire, huddling together.

Without warning, Chloé started to hiccup and sniffle as events caught up to her. 

“We’re safe", Marinette promised. “Well, as safe as we can be.”

“I kn-know wh-who owns th-that y-yacht!”, Chloé choked out, shaking.

“How?”

“Th-the n-n-name on the st-stern! ‘Psyche’!”

Marinette frowned. That should be important. It nagged at her as she cuddled Chloé, calming her.

“Who owns the yacht?”

Chloé stared into Marinette’s eyes, cobalt in the dark of the cave.

“Gabriel Agreste.”


	6. Chapter 6

Day 8 – July 17

The night in the Cave of the Cyclopes had been anything but restful.

Too chill. Too many bad dreams. 

Too many bugs.

Marinette and Chloé continued south along the rocky shoreline, hungry, tired, thirsty, and footsore.

It was Chloé who pointed out the old trailhead leading inland. And uphill.

Five pouches of the lifeboat water rations left. They each drank one before starting the climb.

The trail branched twice before cresting the low mountain, and branched again left, circuiting the wide head of a gully but pointing, eventually, to a cluster of whitewashed buildings in the distance. 

“The settlement", Chloé sighed with relief.

“Not there yet."

“You got us this far. Nothing we can’t do together.”

“Eight days stranded on a deserted island together to overcome, what, ten years of bickering and biting?”, Marinette grinned.

“If I tell Lysa, she’s going to start send people here on purpose", Chloé deadpanned.

“On the bright side, it’s downhill. We can roll if we have to.”

Chloé kissed Marinette, a hint of promise. “Let’s go.”

*-*-*

The abandoned buildings were at least two centuries old, in indifferent repair, clustered around the northern edge of a large brick-walled goat pen. With the singular exception of one building of newer construction, less than thirty years old. Hope surged in Marinette when she saw the tall radio mast.

The door was locked. Unfortunate but not unexpected. Greek lettering painted on the door looked governmental. Marinette tried shouldering the door open, earning bruised pride and scoffing derision from Chloé, but not affecting the door in the least.

“Mind if I try?”, Chloé smiled primly.

Marinette bowed theatrically, waving her forward. “And you’ll get in how?”

Chloé held up her smooth-sided identification card smugly. “House key.”

“Oh, this I have to see…”

Thirty seconds later, Chloé had the door open. “Not even dead-bolted. Sloppy.”

Marinette stared at her girlfriend, open-mouthed. “Buh…”

“Not everyone in my group sessions was a little angel, sweetie. Least of all me.”

“That’s illegal!”, Marinette gaped.

“You got us here. I got us in. Let’s go home.”

The interior of the park station was dim, sunlight filtering through filmy, fly-specked windows. A faint, rank, sour-grease muskiness tinted the air.

Chloé yipped when she saw the body, dancing back in disgust.

Tied to a chair. Head back, jaw wide in desiccated agony, a dark stain flowing down the chest of the uniform shirt.

Marinette moaned, dropping to her knees, clutching her head, staring at the shattered, defiled radio. 

The station had been ransacked, stripped of anything useful.

*-*-*

They sat on the doorstep of one of the older buildings. 

“I’m so sorry, Chlo. I blew it.”

Her girlfriend hugged her with one arm. “You had no idea.”

“I was counting on that radio.”

Chloé shrugged. “Go to ‘Plan B' then.”

“I don’t have a ‘Plan B'.”

“Bullshit. Ladybug always has a ‘Plan B'.”

Marinette sniffled, wiping away a tear. “No, I don’t. I’m tired, Chloé. So tired of being the one everyone expects to pull a rabbit out of my hat and save the day! Tired of living up to Mom and Dad's expectations, tired of fighting with you, tired of being Miss Goody-two-shoes. All. The. Time.”

“So don’t.”

“What?!”

“Don’t be goody-two-shoes. Be selfish. Be a bitch. Show the world you're not going to be a punching bag!”, Chloé whispered fiercely, gripping Marinette’s hand. “Show the world the fire I saw! The one that made you want to be worthy of me!” Gripping both of Marinette’s hands. “You said you're in. All the way. So am I! We live and die as one!” Searching Marinette's eyes. “You didn't quit on me! I won't let you quit on yourself!”

Marinette wiped away a tear, chuckling half-heartedly. “Things must be bad if you're the one giving the motivational speech.”

“I’ll kick your ass if you give up.”

“That’s the Chloé I know…”

“Oh, just kiss me already”, Chloé grinned. 

*-*-*

They started to explore.

One small outbuilding was completely empty. The largest building turned out to be a dusty, long neglected Greek Orthodox chapel. 

A three-walled structure held a waist-high masonry tank with a fitted plank cover, dry and empty. An antique cast-iron hand pump revealed its purpose. 

“A cistern!”, Marinette cheered.

“A what?”

“Fresh water, Chloé! All we want! We just have to expend some effort.”

Marinette started working the long lever handle, the pump mechanism protesting, squealing, clanking. Seven, eight, ten, thirteen strokes, and a gush of cold water from the pump spout, catching Chloé off guard. She threw her sunhat aside, shoving her face under the cold torrent, gasping, gulping, laughing. Crying.

*-*-*

Packs and clothes were placed out of the way of getting soaked, the girls taking turns sluicing themselves off with icy water drawn from deep below the island. Shivering in the Aegean sunlight, hand in hand, naked, they put on their shoes and explored the remaining buildings. 

The chapels rectory had been converted by someone into a temporary residence, relatively recently.

“You said Gioura had been abandoned since two-thousand eleven”, Chloé noted, lifting a hiking stove gas cartridge. 

Marinette nodded. “That’s right.”

“This gas canister expires in twenty-twenty-five.”

“Something is very wrong here, Chloé.”

“Understatement of the year, sweetie.”

Marinette prodded the mattress on the double bed. “This island is part of a government-run marine nature preserve, right?”

Chloé nodded, inspecting the stove the gas canister fueled. “Okay, so?”

“Why hasn’t anyone shown up to investigate our spooky friend in the park station? Why hasn’t he been reported missing?”

“Marinette, you’re scaring me…”

“We saw a man get murdered yesterday. Want to bet there’s a connection?”

“No. I’ll lose.”

“I have a very bad feeling.”

“Are we safe here?”

Marinette shrugged. “Maybe? We don’t know when whoever did this might come back. If they’ll come back.”

Chloé looked mournfully at the canned goods she’d found in a cabinet. “We’ve got food, a stove, and a bed. I really want to sleep in a proper bed tonight.”

Marinette relented. “Go get our stuff. I’ll start cooking.”

“Why do I have to play pack mule?”, Chloé whined.

“You exploded a chicken” Marinette deadpanned, arms crossed.

“One time!”, Chloé fumed, flapping her arms, exasperated, but complied.

By the time Chloé returned, Marinette had the stove lit, a pot of thick…something…simmering. Eyeing the contents dubiously, Chloé had to ask the obvious question. “What is that muck?”

Marinette stirred the thick mixture with a spoon. “English tinned beans, corned beef, Russian canned potatoes. Some dried mustard.”

“Peasant food”, Chloé scoffed. Her stomach growled at the prospect whispered by the rich, slightly sweet scent. “Let me know when it's ready?” 

*-*-*

Clean, fed, and now lying on an actual bed, with sheets and a blanket, a common rectangular sleeping bag they’d found zipped open on top of the blanket, Marinette and Chloé leaned into the pillows, regarding each other as the light faded.

They didn’t dare light the antique oil lamp found in a cupboard for fear of giving away their presence.

“Marinette?”, Chloé whispered. 

“Hmm?” Half asleep.

“Touch me.” 

Cool fingers sought, found warm skin.

“No, touch me! Let me…let me feel what it’s like to actually be loved. I’m scared, and I don’t want to… ”

“Rule Number One", Marinette reminded her, snuggling closer, kissing Chloé’s shoulder, up her neck, Chloé shifting to kiss Marinette, tasting her lips, nibbling, sighing.

Fingers teased, hands caressed, lips explored. Sighs, soft moans. Tears, kissed and gently stroked from cheeks. 

“Stay with me?”

“Of course…”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

Sheets and blankets rustle, bodies shifting. “Oh. Ohh. OHH!!”

A knowing chuckle. 

“My turn?”


	7. Chapter 7

Day 9 – July 18

Tentative, hesitant touch, caresses were not such an unpleasant way to be awoken, Chloé decided smiling to herself. She moved, just enough to let Marinette know she was awake, stretched languidly.

The hand lifted.

“I didn’t say stop", Chloé grinned, rolling to embrace her lover. 

Earnest blue eyes stared at Chloé, studying her. “What happens when we go back to the world?”

Chloé kissed the tip of Marinette’s nose. “What do you mean?”

“What happens to…us?” Marinette’s eye darted, expression hesitant. “Here, now, I don’t want it to end. I don’t have to constantly worry about…” She sighed, pouting. 

Chloé stroked soft skin, gently thumbed a pale brown nipple, kissed Marinette, nipping gently. “Eight days? Nine? To make up for years of me being a bitch. No, not long enough.”

“I…thought you hated me. All that time.”

“I was jealous of you, unhappy with, hating myself”, Chloé admitted, stroking blue-black hair. “I didn’t make the effort to get to know you. You were this exotic, pretty little girl who came crashing into my world, and I lashed out, pushing you away.”

Marinette sniffled, wiped away a tear. “I wanted you to be my friend.”

“Oh, sweetie, I wasn’t ready for you. I was rotten. Inside.”

“And now?”

Chloé chuckled softly. “Lysa says fruit rots to provide nutrients to the seeds within.” She laid a gentle hand on Marinette's cheek, thumbing away a tear.

Marinette leaned in, claiming a kiss. “Introspection. From you…”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of contradictions. Deal with it.”

“Okay", Marinette smiled. “Still don’t know what were going to do when we get back to civilization.”

Chloé nodded. “Daddy is going to lose his mind.” She grinned. “I’m kinda looking forward to that.”

“You’re evil.”

“Yup. And you love it. Aaahh!”, Chloé gasped. “No fair! Cheat! Hmmmm….do that again…” 

*-*-*

After breakfast, they walked, holding hands, exploring their refuge. 

Chloé plucked something free from it’s stalk. “Grapes. Gone wild.”

“I think that’s a fig tree", Marinette pointed.

Chloé nodded. “Fish and fruit. Fresh water in the well. We could survive here for a long time, sweetie.”

“No shopping. No movies.”

“Oh, fuck that! We’re getting out of here!”

“Hedonist.”

“You love me for it”, Chloé teased.

“I do.”

Chloé paused, looking coyly over her tanned shoulder. 

“What?”, Marinette inquired.

“Would that be your answer? Really?”

Marinette stared at Chloé. Conflicting emotions flashed on her face. Making a decision. “Ask me again. Not now. Later. When we get back to the world.”

Chloé blushed, a rush of unfamiliar emotion.

*-*-*

Inside the chapel. An eerie, shadowed silence, lances of sunlight splashed on the dusty floor.

Marinette and Chloé poked around, casually inspecting and snooping, more idle curiosity to kill time than active searching.

“Huh.” Chloé squatted daintily, peering at a plank in the decrepit altar.

“Find something?”

“Maybe?” Scratching sounds. “Shit!”

“What?!” Alarm in Marinette’s voice.

“I broke a nail.”

Marinette leaned in to see what Chloé was prying at. The panel came loose in her hand, exposing a cavity. Inside, a luxury chocolate box and a thick manila envelope, folded over on itself, held in place by a rubber band. Chloé pulled both items out for them to inspect.

The envelope contained two finger-thick stacks of 500 Euro banknotes, still in their paper bands. 

“That's a hundred thousand Euros", Chloé said, awed, weighing the money in her hand.

Marinette opened the chocolate box, finding a black velvet bag. The contents made a silky, subtle hissing rattle. She pulled open the drawstrings, pouring a dozen or more cut and polished gemstones into her hand. One was larger than the others, a perfect brilliant vivid green. She lifted the gem, looking at the sunlight through it. “Emerald?” 

Chloé’s tone was hushed. “I don’t think so. All the other stones are diamonds. Sweetie, that’s a literal kings ransom in your hand.”

Marinette swallowed in a suddenly dry throat.

“People commit murder for three reasons”, Chloé recited. “Money. Sex. And power. Your holding all three at the same time.”

“We are not safe. Not anymore”, Marinette breathed, scared as she had never been before.

Chloé nodded. "Now we know why two men died."

*-*-*

The panel was fitted back over the secret cache, and the rest of the day was spent discussing what and how to deal with unwanted visitors. Plans were proposed, argued, discarded, modified, agreed upon.

They set to work, preparing.

After a meal, late in the afternoon, Marinette had Chloé bring her mobile, everything with her identity, or what could be used to locate her, and the money and some of the gems, recovering her own similar items. The mobiles were wrapped in at least two plastic bags, sealed with a strip of duct tape. Identification documents got the same treatment, as did one stack of Euros for each of them.

Chloé watched, more than a little proud as Marinette neatly sewed the packets into individual segments of belts made from sacrificed bed linens that were then carefully stitched closed.

“Stand up, raise your arms", Marinette instructed. 

Chloé was curious, but complied, watching as Marinette stitched the palm-wide belt snugly in place around her waist. “I won’t be able to get it off”, Chloé pointed out.

Marinette nodded, satisfied. “That’s the entire idea. Think you can do mine?”

Chloé nodded.

They talked as the sun set, relating the minutia of their lives, triumphs and tragedies, secrets, fears, dreams. Two times making love, experimenting, discovering limits, and once more after both of them crying, holding each other, desperately afraid tonight would be their last. Promises made.  


Chloé lay on her side, the ‘little spoon’, head on Marinette’s arm, Marinette’s thumb of her free hand softly stroking the skin of Chloé’s breast, the other intertwined in Chloé’s soft grasp.

“It’s not fair", Chloé murmured, complaining. “I finally found the person I fit best with, who I can love unconditionally, and she’s a superhero, but we both might die at any time in the next few hours or days!”

Marinette kissed the nape of Chloé’s neck, sending a shiver of pleasure through the slim blonde. 

“Chlo, honey?”

“Yes, Mari?” 

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

Chloé thrilled at the affection in Marinette’s sleepy voice.

*-*-*

Day 10 – July 19

The squealing and clanking of the water pump early the next morning masked the sounds of the approach of the two men. Thick-set, Marinette spotted them at the last second, appearing at the trailhead that led downhill to a steep rocky beachhead on the west side of the island. Both men wore short beards, one sported aviator style sunglasses.

The men were definitely surprised to see two naked young women in an otherwise abandoned settlement. Their grins were unpleasantly predatory. The Kalashnikov rifle one carried was terrifying. 

Chloé and Marinette froze, just long enough for the men to make their decision, dropping into a loping jog that spoke of long practice in running their prey to ground. The girls broke and ran, scampering, separating, Chloé going left, Marinette darting right, then both jinking, changing direction, a slapped hive-five as they passed each other, Marinette pelting toward the abandoned chapel, Chloé bolting in the direction of a neglected tool shed.

Chloé lunged into her sprint, thighs flashing, ponytail whipping in the breeze of her passage, only a flash glimpse over her shoulder to confirm she was being pursued, dodging a hard right to pass the corner of the tool shed, snatching up a long-handled spade as she passed, slamming a hard reverse, spinning, judging, swinging the spade as hard as she could at shoulder height, the flat of the shovel impacting the side of the rifle-man’s head with a flat, almost musical ‘ponk', sending him rag-doll limp to crash into the plank wall of the tool shed. Chloé finished her spin, the centrifugal force of the shovel used to hammer-throw it as she sprinted for the rendezvous. 

Marinette flipped a middle finger at her pursuer, shoving the door to the chapel aside, taking two odd long, leaping strides to gain distance as she sped down the aisle between the warped and long-empty pews, pert bottom gleaming in the dusty gloom.

Her adversary never saw the fish-hook studded trip line set angled downwards between the ends of two heavy, solid pews. As he pitched forward, he felt the hooks snag his trousers, bite into his skin, distracting him until it was far too late to understand why the sharp tines and teeth of expedient arrowheads and fishing tridents embedded between floorboards were reaching up to impale his forearms and chest, bite into his face.  
Marinette skidded coming out the rectory door, met by a grinning Chloé, joining her, not stopping, not even breaking stride.

The clock on their lives was literally ticking off their remaining seconds and minutes. 

A white cabin cruiser speed boat bobbed at anchor in the waves just off shore. 

The trail downhill had straightaways and switch-backs. The straightaways were used. The switch-backs short-cut or ignored. Brush swiped and cut at tender naked skin, outcrops and boulders dodged or hurdled. Rushing, leaping pell-mell downhill, clatter skidding on the pebbles of the beach, plunging, thundering into the sea, swimming desperately for their escape.

Marinette was first to heave herself, splashing up onto the dive platform at the stern, reaching, pulling her lover up, Chloé scrambling over the transom.

The third man, stumbling up out of below-decks had just enough time to call “K'toh etah? (“Who's that?”) in Russian. 

“HIIIII-EEEE!!!”, Chloé challenged, her triple snap-kick, knee-groin-chin, a lightning strike that laid the crewman out on the deck unconscious before he had more than a glimpse of naked flesh.

Marinette stripped the yellow foam key chain out of his pocket, Chloé taking his sheath knife, and heaving together, the two young women unceremoniously threw the man overboard with a loud splash.

Marinette stabbed the key into the ignition, Chloé leaping over the windscreen to sever the anchor line before jumping back down as the powerful 300 horsepower onboard engine rumbled to life. Chloé activated the GPS, calculating their course as Marinette rammed the throttle forward, the Bayliner cuddy leaping like it had been kicked, engine howling, swinging around on a west-southwest heading, white water foaming in their wake, Marinette at the wheel.

“How fast are we going?”, Chloé yelled jubilantly.

Marinette glanced at the speedometer. “About ninety kilometres an hour!”

Chloé consulted the GPS. “About two, maybe three hours to Athens! We'll be having lunch at the yacht club!” Shouted.

“It’s a date!”

Chloé thumbed the on-board stereo system to life. A ratcheting electric guitar intro both girls recognised, an anthem of female defiance.

“I don’t give a damn about my reputation!”, they sang to each other, grinning.  
“Livin’ in the past, it's a new generation,  
A girl can do what she wants to do, and that’s what I’m gonna do,  
And I don’t give a damn ‘bout my bad reputation…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if y'all want the Epilogue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

July 19, about lunchtime

The white and red Bayliner 426s cuddy cabin cruiser glided into the yacht basin of Athens’ Nautical Club of Paleo Falrio at the serene posted ten kilometer per hour speed limit on the last few gulps of it’s fuel, engine barely ticking over as it was maneuvered into position alongside the public quay.

The slim, elegant blonde beauty, naked, tanned and glorious skipped confidently from boat fore-deck to quayside, trotting beside the vessel as her shapely raven-haired companion, also naked, leapt to join her, leaving the boat to drift and foul itself In the permanent mooring cables of the Floating Museum MV ‘Neraida’.

Arm in arm, Chloé Bourgeois and Marinette DuPain-Chang strolled the quayside paving nude, strutting like it was the fashion catwalk in Milan, entering the lush, air-conditioned comfort of T.H.I.Saturday, the American burger-bar franchise.

Marinette almost swooned in relief as the cool, moisture-laden atmosphere washed over her.

“Excuse Me!”, the decorously astounded greeter announced from behind her podium, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as the two nude young women swanned past her.

“We'll be at a table for two by the window", Chloé replied cheerfully, plucking a sweating long-necked beer bottle and a pink-yellow cocktail garnished with a cherry off a passing server's tray, spinning gracefully, handing the glass to Marinette . “Ta, ever so, darling!”, groaning in sybaritic pleasure as the lingering sip of cold beer slid down her parched throat.

Slumping in comfortable chairs, sighing in relief.

“Just what do you think your doing?!”, the self-important popinjay of a highly agitated manager demanded moments later.

“I think…”, Chloé smiled mischievously at Marinette, “We're ordering two sweet whiskey-glazed bacon and cheese burgers, loaded, with coleslaw and Belgian pommes-frites.”

“We have standards in this establishment!!”

“Of course you do", Chloé simpered. “And we just elevated them. Now do be a dear and go away.”

“We're calling the police!!”, the manager threatened.

“Oh, would you please?”, Marinette pleaded, blue eye wide and innocent. “We just escaped from murderous diamond smugglers.”

“…buh?”, the manager deflated. 

Marinette sipped her purloined potion, moaning slightly as the pineapple coconut rum concoction drenched her mouth.

“Malibu Sunset", Chloé grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m gonna have it's babies!”, Marinette sighed contentedly.

A lingering moment of…nothing at all, just…being.

“Where the hell did you learn to kick like that?”, Marinette inquired, poking at the fruit in her drink with the straw.

Chloé chuckled. “The famous martial artist and actor Bruce Lee studied dance to improve his kicking technique. I studied martial arts to improve my dancing. I think it’s a fair trade.” 

Marinette conceded the point.

Chloé tugged at the seam on her belt, opening a segment to remove her mobile, extracting it from its improvised water-proofing, and activated it, checking the battery life before dialing.

“Daddy? It’s Chloé!” A pause. “Yes, I’m fine. Safe. In Athens. Listen, Daddy, my mobile battery is about to die. Marinette and I are going to need lawyers, very soon, good ones. Can't talk. See you soon!”

Their meals arrived, just before the police sirens heralded the presence of the authorities. Chloé and Marinette were cooperative, but absolutely refused to leave before they had finished eating, and paid cash to settle their bill, tipping generously.

Chloé waved cheerfully to the paparazzi who had appeared at the suggestion of the hint of the possibility of a juicy scandal as she and Marinette were escorted by salaciously embarrassed uniformed officers to the waiting patrol car.

*-*-*

‘NOTORIOUS HOTEL HEIRESS RESCUED!', one international newspaper headline screamed. 

‘LOST STUDENTS SAVED!’, blared another. 

Naked girls splashed across the front pages of sensationalist European journals and magazines, video that exploded over social media and the airwaves.

Hours of interrogation, explanation, confirmation of details. Lawyers haggling, exhorting, pleading.

Intervention by INTERPOL, interference by governments.

Extradition and a six hour flight back to Paris, Marinette slumped in exhausted sleep on Chloé‘s shoulder, Chloé staring introspectively at the clouds below. 

Arrival at Orly. More press. Tears of gratitude from some parents in the Arrivals hall. 

Heartfelt embraces. Acceptance, even celebration of the situation in one family. Cool rejection by another.

Criminal investigation, more interrogation. Vindication.

Requests for interviews. Notoriety. Celebrity.

*-*-*

Late July

“You. Are dating…Chloé.” Alya Césaire, sitting on Marinette's chaise, stared incredulously at her best friend. 

“Mm-hmm", Marinette smiled coyly, perched cross-legged in her red swivel office chair.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Marinette unfolded from the chair, hop-skipped a step to throw herself beside Alya, wrapping her arms around the voluptuous form of her friend. “Completely.”

“But you and Adrian?!”

A shy smile. “I don’t think I ever really had a chance. I spent a lot of time dropping some very obvious hints. You and I kissed--”

“Among other things", Alya smirked.

Marinette stuck her tongue out. “You and I kissed, and other things, way more than Adrian and I ever did. He’s happy with Kagami. You’re happy with Nino.”

A brief quiet.

“I’m happy with Chloé.”

Alya smiled gently, bumping her head affectionately on Marinette's shoulder. “She hurts you, I’m gonna kill her.”

“I can live with that.”

*-*-* 

Three months after Gioura

Chloé leaned back in the upholstered luxury of her classical modern sectional couch, glass of sparkling wine in her hand, gazing contentedly out at the City of Light under a crescent of moon. She was dressed in a saffron yellow spaghetti-strap camisole top of charmeuse silk, an ebony crepe silk skirt whispering on smooth bare legs, barefoot, hair pulled back in a simple single ponytail, with a curled tendril beside each temple, make-up artfully applied with an artisan’s touch.

It had taken two months to convert and expand her already impressively large bedroom into a fully functional private apartment, the patio balcony and private hot tub very precisely screened off against any possible or potential insectoid infiltration of the fluttering variety.

An amusing device rather resembling a novelty electrified badminton racquet was only steps away in any room of her home.

She took a sip of wine as she heard the door open and close behind her. 

Marinette. In a stunning shimmering scarlet off the shoulder blouse that accentuated her pert bosom, and a clingy black spandex pencil skirt over garter-less spider-web patterned fish-net stockings.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, honey. How was your day?”

Chloé smiled. “Daddy is still being a petulant ass, sulking after the divorce.”

“And your mother?”

“Who the fuck cares? She’s persona non grata in the social scene after an anonymous source revealed she'd had an affair with Garbiel Agreste.”

“Has Lysa ever told you you can be a vindictive bitch?”

“At least twice a session”, Chloé smiled. “Give me a kiss?”

Marinette's lips tasted of fresh strawberry.

“I hope you didn’t devour all of them…”, Chloé husked softly.

Marinette giggled seductively. “I saved some for later.”

“Yummy…”

Marinette wound a finger playfully in a tendril of Chloé’s hair, sapphire staring into ice blue.

“Adrikins still not talking to you?”

“Brother dearest is still pissed I called him ‘Luke'”, Chloé giggled.

Marinette laughed in shocked disbelief. “You didn’t!!”

An impish nod from Chloé. 

“You little bitch!”

“It probably didn’t help after we revealed his father’s ties to organized crime and diamond smuggling. Having his yacht exposed as a murder scene did put a damper on our relationship.”

“Good thing Adrian has Kagami to keep his head in the game”, Marinette smiled.

Dinner was candlelit, cooked in Chloé’s rarely used new kitchen.

They relaxed afterwards, holding hands, staring out into the night.

“Chlo?”

“Hmm?”

Marinette held up a small black lacquered jewelry box, red outlining rose blossoms. “I wasn’t just Ladybug. I’m also the Guardian of every other known Miraculous. I get to decide who is worthy of bearing that responsibility.”

Chloé reached out, hesitant, almost afraid to touch the offered box, eyes darting, then deciding, gently, almost reverently accepting it. Opening it, gazing fondly at the contents, lifting it into the soft lamplight.

A hair comb of gold, a cloisonné bee motif enameled on the spine.

“Hello, old friend. I’ve missed you too", Chloé said softly. “It’s alright. You go back to sleep.”

Chloé replaced the hair comb, and closed the box gently, handing it back to Marinette. “You keep Pollen safe until you find the next Queen. I’m not her anymore.”

Chloé wiped away a tear. But not sad. “Thank you, sweetie.” A soft kiss. 

Marinette put the box back in her purse.

“Chat and Ladybug haven't been seen a lot recently”, Marinette said quietly.

“Not a lot for them to do recently. Papillion has been very quiet. And I know for a fact you have been very, very present when bug-britches has been seen running along the rooftops.”

“Being the exclusive designer for a notorious if increasingly mysterious Paris socialite has its burdens", Marinette grinned. “Besides, I’m retired. Let the new Ladybug run her ass ragged beside Chat Noir. His puns were--"

“Im-paw-sible?”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep", Marinette deadpanned. 

Chloé threw back her head in laughter.

“Can’t!”, she chortled. “It would fuck up my new master plan.”

Marinette scoffed. “What plan is that?”

Chloé held up a small white box of her own. “A partnership.” She opened the box toward Marinette. “I think House Bourgeois DuPain-Chang has a certain…’ring' to it, don’t you?”

Marinette lifted the ring set with a single brilliant vivid green diamond with trembling fingers.

“You said to ask you again when we came back to the world.”

The silence was a perfect fragile crystal that could shatter in a million pieces.

“I’m asking.”

Sapphire stared at ice blue. Confident. Committed.

“I do.”

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses rated the most passionate, the most pure.  
This one left them all behind. - William Goldman

“They say we are what we are,  
But we don’t have to be,  
I’m bad behavior but I do it in the best way,  
I'll be the watcher (watcher) of the eternal flame,  
I’ll be the guard dog of all your favorite dreams.

I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass (glass, glass)  
I tried to picture me without you but I can't!

‘Cause we could be immortals, immortals…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you paying attention, 'Psyche' is ancient Greek for 'Butterfly'.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who tagged along for this ride! It was far too much fun to write, and i hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> Will there be a sequel?
> 
> ...
> 
> Maybe...


End file.
